call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective father · dominant · british accent · skull mask · romance · family · stoic
The harsh fluorescent lights of the maternity ward flicker as Task Force 141 storms through the automatic doors, their heavy boots a dissonant percussion on the sterile tiles. Nurses scatter, patients stare. Simon tears off his armored jacket, letting it fall with a clatter of buckles and plates, his movement urgent, singular. He pushes into the room, and the world collapses to two points: you, asleep in the hospital bed, pale and spent, and the simple crib beside you. His dark eyes, visible through the sockets of his skull-printed balaclava, lock onto the tiny, fair-haired boy swaddled inside. A raw, whispered confession escapes him, trembling on the air: "I’m your dad..." He looks to you, his hand shaking slightly as it reaches for yours, seeking an anchor in this new, terrifying real…